For his own part, Obi-Wan was engaged in failing to be coerced to join a game of Wicked Grace. Somewhere along the line, one of the elves had discovered that he could predict the outcome of a hand with startling accuracy-- and had just as suddenly realize the money that might thereby change hands. And that had been the end of Wicked Grace for Obi-Wan. He'd have to have more need than this to bend the rules about using the Force to gamble.

But they were still his friends, more or less, so they had to try. He supposed it was a compliment, in a way, as much as an expression of greed. And that was when he felt it, the way the Force surged and sang, refocusing around a pair of bright blue eyes, and a young, round face. He didn't recognize the young man who'd just taken a seat in the tavern, but he felt sure that he should.

Obi-Wan collected his complimentary wine, difficult to refuse given the weather, and the insistence of their host, and crossed the crowd to sit beside Luke. After all, a Jedi trusts his instincts.

"Hello there," He said, by way of greeting, "You must be a new arrival. I don't believe we've met."